From Opposite Ends of the Earth
by icelandes
Summary: this was a request from someone on tumblr...looking for old stuff to upload, so why not...anyways, ivan is a college student studying in america and one day he visits alfred's apartment unexpectedly and finds himself confused and puzzled by alfreds strange and peculiar american behavior


Alfred sat on the couch in his boxers, eating a bag of popcorn and idly flipping through the page of his Russian Literature textbook. He was supposed to be working on a thesis comparing two famous Russian writers, but since his youth Alfred has been a victim of the unfortunate aliment of procrastination. Besides, he didn't have any classes tomorrow, and he figured he could just head over to the college library and get it done then. Satisfied with this resolution, he shut his book and leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms out with a yawn. Grabbing the bowl of popcorn, he brought his knees up to his chest, his attention now focused on the TV. He balanced the bowl on his knees before grabbing a handful and shoving it in his mouth. After awhile, the TV began to shift out of focus, and Alfred could feel his eyelids beginning to droop, telling Alfred he should get some sleep. He was set to comply, setting the now empty bowl back on the table and getting up to brush his teeth. But then a knock at the door sounded from the front of the room. Knock, knock, knock, knock, heavy and steady, like a metronome. Alfred sighed, rubbing his eyes as he padded over to the door. Standing before him was Ivan, a kid Alfred knew from his Russian Literature class. He was he from Russia, studying abroad in New York City. He was cute, too, Alfred had taken a silent note of this, but Alfred still wasn't glad to have him show up uninvited at his apartment. "Privyet!" he said cheerfully. "How—," his words fell as he noticed Alfred's attire. He hadn't thought to get changed before answering the door, he figured it was Matthew or Arthur, both of which didn't particularly care how he dressed. "I didn't think Americans dressed so poorly while at home," he said, puzzlement working its way into his voice. "Poorly…?" Alfred mumbled, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. Ivan bit his lip. "Well…It's just that in Russia, people dressed nicely even while at home." "Ah," Alfred said, a smile tugging at his lips. "Well, in America, we don't. Especially not on a Friday night alone." Ivan hummed, as if taking another mental note on the peculiarities of Americans, hands playing with the edge of his scarf. "Anyways," Alfred continued. "Not to be rude, but why are you…here?" "I came by to see if you were home. I thought maybe we could go to a bar or something, you know…hang out." "You should've just called me, man," Alfred said with amicable frustration. "I need time to get ready." Ivan's eyes widened. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, confused. "Do people just do this in Russia?" Alfred asked, leaning on the doorframe. It was cold, but he decided it was unwise to talk to a Russian about "cold." "Well, yes," Ivan said. "Do they not in America?" "No, not usually," Alfred said. "We usually plan ahead. I guess we're kinda touchy like that." Alfred noticed Ivan's eyes crinkle as he smiled. God, he was cute. "Look," Alfred said. "Come on in. I'm not ready to go out, but we can hang out here, if you'd like. I should have some beer in the fridge." "Ah!" Ivan said excitedly. "I got you a gift. Perhaps you'd be willing to share." He pulled a vodka bottle from his jacket, complete with a red ribbon wrapped around the neck. Alfred eagerly grabbed the bottle. "Dude, is this vodka straight from the motherland?" "Of course. I grabbed a couple bottles before I left…A few for myself, but some to give as gifts." "Dude…Thank you," Alfred laughed. "I wish I had something for you, oh man. I'll get you something in return soon." Ivan's eye smiled, happy Alfred enjoyed the gift. "No, no, don't worry," Ivan said. "A gift is a gift, not a trade." Alfred's drew a hand across his face. "Well, alright. I'm going to get dressed. Just put your shoes near the others and hang your coat up over there. I'll be right back." Ivan nodded as Alfred spun on his heel towards the back of the house. Setting the bottle down on the coffee table as he whisked by, he made a beeline for his room. Once behind closed doors, he peeled off his old t-shirt, and began digging through his dresser for something nicer. Eventually he settled on a gray swearer and hopped into a pair of jeans he hoped were clean. He inspected himself in the mirror, combing his golden hair with his fingers, and after he picked a piece of popcorn out of his teeth, he walked out into the living room. Ivan was sitting on the couch, violet eyes turning towards Alfred as he walked in. Ivan smiled. "Ah, much better. Now you look presentable." Alfred rolled his eyes playfully. "You can put whatever you want on," Alfred told him. "I'm going to go get some glasses." Alfred saw Ivan pick up the remote almost tentatively before walking into the kitchen, and he was still flipping through the channels when Alfred got back, carrying two small glasses. "American television," Ivan said with an air of wisdom, "Is either the best or the worst." "That's true," Alfred agreed, filling both of the glasses. "It's only 6:30, anyways. Nothing good is on for another two hours." Alfred passed one of the glasses to Ivan, who accepted it with a gracious "thank you". "Toast?" Alfred offered, holding out his glass. "To you," Ivan said, raising his. "And to you," Alfred said, grinning at the toast. Their glasses met with a nice clink, and Alfred was about to take a sip when Ivan stopped him. "I do not know if you are a man who can hold his liquor, but I should warn you that this vodka's very…poignant. Though, I'm sure, you can handle it." Alfred scoffed. "Of course I can, Russki." He took a sip, and swallowed. It burned, and it left Alfred sputtering and coughing as it traveled down his throat. "Oh," he said, coughing. "Oh man, that's strong." Ivan burst into laughter. Alfred was still sputtering a bit. "Oh god," he mumbled. "You could clean a damn oven with this stuff." Ivan took a smooth sip out of his glass. "You like, though?" Alfred took another sip, grinning at Ivan. "Of course." "I am glad to hear that," Ivan said, finishing off his glass with a shake of his head. After a few small sips, Alfred had finished his glass as well, placing in on the table. Sighing and enjoying the warmth blooming from his stomach, Alfred leaned back against his sofa, throwing his feet up on the table. "Why do you Americans do that?" Asked Ivan irritably after a moment. "Do what?" Alfred said, surprised at the sudden question and worried he'd done something offensive. "That thing," Ivan hissed. "With your legs, that thing. Can you not just leave them on the ground?" "Sorry?" Alfred stumbled to lift his feet back down, apologetically looking at Ivan. Ivan smiled, shaking his head. "Nyet, no, it's fine, it's just one of those irritating things you Americans do." Alfred laughed. "One of? What are the others?" Ivan poured himself another glass, rolling his eyes as he took a sip. "Well," he sighed. "You are always…Smiling. I don't get it, that sort of American optimism you have. In Russia, we didn't ignore problems like you do. We overcome them. Accept them, if you will." "Huh," Alfred mused. "Weird." "You are also very private," he added with a shrug. "You act all nice and open, but as soon as a stranger asks you a question, you clam up. I do not pretend to understand." Alfred spread his hands. "I don't think we understand it, either." They laughed, as Alfred downed another glass. "Hey," Alfred said. "I'm glad you came to visit." "You weren't before?" Asked Ivan, feigning hurt. "Well, it was surprising to see the cute Russian kid I've only talked to once show up at my door," Alfred laughed. Ivan had turned a shade of pink, leaving Alfred to try to figure out what he said. Then he remembered. Cute. He had called him cute. "Oh god," Alfred stuttered. "I'm sorry, I didn't—" "You think I'm cute?" Ivan asked tentatively, as if he was worried he misheard. His free hand began working at the edge of his scarf nervously. "I, uh—" Ivan smiled, a bit bashfully, looking at the ground. "I guess you're pretty cute, too," he said after a moment with a shrug, trying to act nonchalant. Alfred felt his neck and ears become red, and he felt his knees shake slightly. Alfred was so oblivious to his own feelings, he hadn't realized how much he liked the Russian. His heart began to race, his palms became clammy. Alfred was afraid Ivan could hear his heartbeat from where he was. Oh god, oh god, he couldn't think. All he could think about was how fast his heart was beating, and how much he wanted to embrace Ivan and how cute his ears were when he blushed and… Suddenly, Ivan lifted his head up gently, glancing over at Alfred, and Alfred took this opportunity to learn forward and kiss him. Warmth filled Alfred's body as his lips grazed with Ivan's, his arms wrapping his neck, and Ivan's wrapping around his waist. The kiss lasted for several minutes, though neither of them knew for how long. After they parted, they looked at each other, and began to life. Nothing was funny, but the mirth just bubble out of them in the form of laughter. They hugged and kissed some more, laughing and drinking before they fell asleep on the sofa together. 


End file.
